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TEN WORDS HAD SEALED MY FATE.
It wasn't until the waves had begun crashing into the stern of the ship, not until the salt spray was covering the decks and the hull was grinding and tearing itself upon the coral reef, not until the killing had started and terror had taken hold that I heard those ten words once more, flung at me by the wind. I cursed George for uttering them, and cursed Cheh Wah Tek for agreeing with him, and cursed myself for believing that smuggling fifty tonnes of marijuana from Australia to Singapore could be done so easily.
Another thriller from the prize-winning author of The Crying Stones.
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